Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd! Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat, And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.

Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word.

Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to

men.

Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back rather.

K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.

Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.

Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful: Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,And thou mis-shapen Dick,-I tell ye all, I am your better, traitors as ye are ;— And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.

K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him. Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony.

[Glo. stabs him.

Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury.

Q. Mar. O, kill me too!

Glo. Marry, and shall.

[Clar. stabs him.

[Offers to kill her.

K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done

too much.

Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with

words?

K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means for her recovery.

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother; I'll hence to London on a serious matter:

Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Clar. What? what?

Glo. The Tower, the Tower!

[Exit.

Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother,

boy!

Canst thou not speak!-O traitors! murderers!-
They, that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man; this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak :-
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.-
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
But, if you ever chance to have a child,

Look in his youth to have him so cut off,

:

As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young prince! K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me

here;

Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not?-then, Clarence, do it thou.

Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it.

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself; "Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.

What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,

Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.
Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this
prince!
[Exit, led out forcibly.
K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?

Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence: discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-Legdon. A room in the Tower. King HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter Gloster.

Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather;

"Tis sin to flatter, good was little better:

Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike,
And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord.
Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer.
[Exit Lieutenant.

K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the

wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.-
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush : And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye,

Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragic history.But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life? Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner? K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when first thou
didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophecy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,-
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discord sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigest deformed lump,

Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.

Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born,
To signify, thou cam'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st-

Glo. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in thy

speech;

[Stabs him. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. .K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after

this.

O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee!

[Dies. Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! O, may such purple tears be always shed

From those who wish the downfal of our house!-
If any spark of life be yet remaining,

Down, down to hell; and say—I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say,

came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried,
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
And so I was; which plainly signified
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.

VOL. V.